


Long Night's Journey into Day

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Arguing, Caffeine Overdose, Domestic, Dreams and Nightmares, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Makeup Sex, Making Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Take-away food is not good, Marco is frustrated, Mario is angry, and the unresolved tension from the past comes out.Neither of them can sleep that night.





	1. 10:23 PM

**Author's Note:**

> It's an AU in which neither of them is a footballer.
> 
> Also my first Götzeus fic, yay!

"Sunny, I'm home!" Marco puts his briefcase down and hangs the keys on the door hanger in the most stereotypical and bored manner. There's no answer from anyone, and it would seem that the apartment is empty if there wasn't a sound of running TV from the living room. He sighed, taking off his shoes. " _Sunny_!" he called again, and though he wished not to do this, his voice sounded almost frustrated this time.

Still no answer. It's okay, Marco thought - and still, he threw his shoes on the rug unnecessarily loudly before pacing to the living room. The lights were on apparently in the whole apartment - and Mario sat in the armchair in front of the TV, snuggled in his freaking blue IKEA plaid he'd bought two weeks ago, looking like the perfect representation of peaceful comfort.

He turned his head when Marco entered the room, and smiled at him. 

"Oh, hi - I didn't hear you - "

 "Hey."

One glance at the TV was enough; Mario was watching some stupid criminal series, as always, with a package of potato chips by his hand.

Marco has had a bad day. He was aware of that and he knew his mood by now was far below the norm - and he knew he should never bring out his anger at anything and most importantly anyone who was not responsible for this state, oh God, he knew all this so well, and still couldn't control himself at that moment.

"What's for dinner?"

Mario went back to watching the TV. "I ordered some noodles. Left you half of the portion - it's with beef and some vegetables." He took a handful of chips and started chewing on them, completely taken by the series. Marco watched him for a few seconds, and when it was clear he would not get any further information from him, he just went back to the kitchen, feeling irritated by everything - starting with the long way home, the hour spent in the traffic jam, his own tiredness and the fact that Mario was slouched in front of the TV, unable _to even answer_ when he greeted him the first time.

"It's fucking cold - "

That wasn't the main problem. The problem was, it was the same food Mario would always order when he was staying overnight.

And they never seemed to eat it together.

And today has been so fucking long, the people Reus was working with were extremely annoying this time, he spent three hours explaining all the plans to them and still they didn't seem to get the grip, and then, as he drove home, it started to snow heavily and there was an accident in one of the most frequented parts of the road and he got stuck in the ridiculous traffic jam and it was just all too much for him - Mario, who couldn't even be bothered to get up from his seat, was just the last nail in the coffin.

"Jesus Christ, just reheat it in the microwave!" Mario called back.

"It wouldn't kill you if you cooked something yourself for once," Marco muttered, loud enough for Mario to hear.

 "It's not my apartment, you know?"

"Then what the hell are you even doing here anyway." He took a shallow plate from one of the drawers and threw all the cold noodles from the plastic box on it. When he turned to put the plate in the microwave, Mario was standing in the doorway, watching him cautiously.

"You're in quite a mood tonight, huh?" he said drily. 

"It would be better," Reus snapped bitterly, "if we had some good fucking food."

"What's wrong with this? I thought you loved these noodles - "

"It's the fourth time we have it in like...what, a week?" He finally set up the time and pressed "Start". He still kept his eyes on the microwave as he knew that this whole discussion was absolutely useless and ridiculous and he just physically couldn't look at Mario while spitting out his absurd complaints.

"Are we really arguing about _this_?" Götze asked with a chuckle, probably trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry but I just don't understand why you can't go shopping sometimes when you know I work late in the evening - "

"I work as well."

"But from home."

"It's still work."

"It makes a difference, you know? How long would shopping take you? An hour? Half an hour? Would that be so dramatic in your busy daily schedule?"

"I'm not your personal shopping assistant, Marco."

"We're just always eating this shit, spending money on it, while you could easily just make something normal in here - "

" _Me_?"

"I don't understand why can't you go to the shop like twice a week, would that be too much of a burden?"

"I'm not your fucking housewife!" Mario threw his hands in the air, done with the stupidest conversation he's ever had with Marco.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere better," he yelled back, storming out of the room.

A sudden sharp pain cut through Reus' body - God no, not this, _not this again_ \- and it was like a harsh awakening from his previous state of frustration and anger.

He sighed, hearing Mario's unnecessarily loud footsteps in the hallway and then the sound of him putting on his winter jacket.

"Sunny! Sunny, wait - "

He followed him through the corridor and he could feel his anger turning on the inside - against himself, his stupidity and exaggerated frustration that he really shouldn't have vented against Mario - 

"Sunny," he exhaled, reaching for Mario's hand that was already in the anorak. "Sunny, please. I didn't mean it."

 Götze looked at him skeptically, trying to zip his anorak. "You need to calm down."

"I had a really bad day - "

"That's not an excuse."

They both could hear the microwave beeping three times.

" _Your food's ready_ ," Mario said in an almost disgusted tone and turned to open the door.

" _Sunny_ ," Marco begged him and grabbed his hand, desperate to stop him. "I'm sorry, don't go. Please." He didn't know why but the urge to keep Mario close was stronger than him - he couldn't let go of his hand and he felt like he would rather die in this moment than watch his Sunny run down the stairs and disappear behind the lift shaft. 

"I need you here."

Marco's voice was dry and shaky.

It's been more than six months since Mario left, and more than a month since he came back; and it was all still too vivid and present in Marco's mind that when Götze slowly stepped back and closed the door, turning to him without a word, Marco felt as relieved as if he'd just saved his life.

 "I didn't mean it," he breathed out in the soft hair as he pulled Mario into an embrace. "I'm sorry - "

His heart was racing at an absurdly high rate.

 _It's okay - it's okay_ , his stirred thoughts told him.

He's not losing him again.


	2. 11:14 PM

"I'm so glad you didn't go - "

Mario giggled under Marco's small pecks that covered his lips and cheeks. "I would feel terrible for making you leave - " Reus continued, laying more kisses on Mario's chin and down his neck until he got to his bare chest.

"I'm glad I stayed." Mario ran his fingers through the soft blonde hair of his lover, pressing his face closer to his frantically beating heart.

They had sex, slow, lazy sex that Marco has learned to love ever since they got back together, and he enjoyed every second of it as he caressed Mario's skin, warm and pleasant to touch, and planted thousands of soft kisses on his lips.

When he rolled away from him, in a state of blissful exhaustion, he was thanking God for such a great way to end this terrible day. 

The bed crackled as Mario sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, and it caused Marco almost physical pain, feeling the sudden lack of warmth next to his body.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower - "

"You can do it tomorrow."

Mario just smiled. "I'll be right back."

Reus sighed sadly. Sure, he couldn't stop Mario from taking a shower. But as he rolled on his side, facing the empty half of the bed, an unexpected wave of sadness took over him. He reached his hand and touched the wrinkled bedsheet. It was still warm, and he moved his hand over it, stroking the wrinkles. Then he moved on to the pillow.

This was Mario's pillow, or more like - his pillowcase. He had it marked. Marco had to smile when his fingers found the _mark_ there. It was a crazy memory of how Mario once got too carried away in the bed and just ripped a hole in the pillowcase with his teeth - they both burst into laughter then, and ever since, Marco always teased him about being _a pillow-biter_. 

That was a long time ago. That was _before -_

He swallowed hard, brought the pillow to his chest and hugged it tightly, burying his face in it. 

_Mario, Mario..._

He squeezed the pillow in his hands and had to fight back the tears.

He always tried to hide it all. His pain, his insecurity, his fears - and sometimes he would almost forget all this, especially with _Sunny_ next to him.

But it was a vicious circle. Götze himself was the main reason of his insecurities. 

This golden boy, this ball of sunshine, this unbelievably cute miraculous guy whose eyes were always shining, his _Sunny_ \- he left him once.

Would he hesitate to do it again?

There was something child-like in Götze. Maybe his small frame, round baby face, his ever-lasting bright mood - or his tendency to be drawn too quickly to new things. New hobbies. New opportunities. New people.

Would he chase after an opportunity of a lifetime, a better-looking man, a more interesting life?

He had left him once already. 

For what?

For a job he had thought he wanted.

And it wasn't pretty.

Back then, he accused Mario of putting his job over their love.

Mario accused him of wanting to control his life.

They argued, then made up again, and they didn't really break up. Though it felt exactly like that because Mario disappeared from his life, moved to Munich, started a different life - a life that he knew almost nothing about, and all he learned was from the occasional video chats and calls and messages. 

Which were all still _more and more_ occasional.

 It was the job, Mario said. Too demanding. He didn't have much spare time. And also the people - he needed to get to know them, and that took some time as well. And the better he got to know them, the less he called. Instead of his phone number, Marco grew used to seeing more and more photos of him with the new people. Teambuilding. Birthday celebration of someone from the office. Bowling night. Tennis night. Football night. Karaoke night.

It must have been very young and modern firm indeed. Marco had no idea what exactly this firm was supposed to do because, from Mario's photos, it all looked just like one big party. He was jealous, bitter, and most of all heartbroken because Mario looked so happy in all of these photos. He had his exciting life. Without him.

In the end, the new life wasn't as exciting as it seemed. Or Mario wasn't as happy as he appeared to be - or maybe his boss expected something more from him. Maybe he simply wasn't good enough for the job. Marco didn't care - the important thing was that Götze came back. 

The nightmare was over, or at least seemed to be.

Marco heard the water stopped running, and he quickly let go off the pillow, returning it on its right place.

 "You should buy a new shampoo - " Mario laughed all the way from the bathroom as he opened the door. 

Marco smiled, staring at the ceiling. Moments like this felt perfect - just pure, unspoiled domestic happiness for the two of them. That was all he wanted.

"Why don't _you_ buy it?" he asked, still looking up.

Mario came to the bed, with the towel wrapped around his waist, and he just laughed and shook his head at that question.

 Marco reached for his hand and looked him straight in the eye, though it was dark in the room. 

"Sunny, why don't we live together?"


End file.
